


What Unicron Left Behind

by raisedbymoogles



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Gen, Medical, damage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/pseuds/raisedbymoogles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid opens his medbay to a desperate Decepticon, and discovers what happens when you overpower a herald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Unicron Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Easter Party on (lj)tf_g1_season3.

“He was never meant to last this long,” First Aid murmured.

He felt rather than saw the other occupant of the medbay stiffen, but Cyclonus was generally more even-tempered than his commander and didn’t lash out as Galvatron would have done. He even kept his tone even as he spoke. “What do you mean?”

First Aid blew air through his vents, trying to navigate his words between Cyclonus’s worry on behalf of his leader and his needle-sharp pride on behalf of same. It spoke to exactly how worried the mech was that he’d brought Galvatron _here,_ not only to Autobot-controlled Cybertron but into the very heart of their stronghold. Galvatron lay unconscious on First Aid’s biggest repair table, hooked up to a dozen readouts, his face finally wiped clean of the rage and pain that dogged his every step since his activation, the twisted agony he’d worn when he’d been brought in Cyclonus’s arms, his lieutenant roaring _help him, now!_ with his fearsome battleground command-voice cracking at the end.

What else could First Aid do? He’d prepped his medbay.

“Unicron created him with a single mission: to find and destroy the Matrix,” First Aid explained in a quiet voice, and paused to see how Cyclonus would take the mention of his creator. Cyclonus only listened, gaze steady, so First Aid went on. “So he built him - or rather, reformatted him - with nothing but raw power in mind, but he didn’t bother to make his components strong enough to withstand all that power for long because he was never supposed to exist past the completion of his mission.”

Cyclonus’s optics dimmed. “So this - lack of foresight is bearing fruit now,” he said slowly. “My lord is suffering multiple hardware failures because his power is too much even for his own body.” The spacejet drifted closer, optics on Galvatron’s face, fingers hovering just shy of touching Galvatron’s hand.

“I can replace the components that are burned out,” First Aid told him. “I may even be able to modulate things to slow the progression of the hardware failures. But - ultimately the only cure is a complete retrofit.”

Cyclonus snapped a glare at him. _”Retrofit!?_ Rebuild Lord Galvatron?” First Aid remained calm, secure in his diagnosis, and at length Cyclonus’s shoulders slumped. “Replace the burnt-out parts, Autobot. My lord and I will discuss the rest.”

“All right.” Hiding his worry, First Aid began removing Galvatron’s chest plating to expose the straining components within.


End file.
